


Who You Are

by ravenstrange



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: But not quite AU, Descendants of the Inquisition, Eventually Other POV too, F/M, Inquisition Characters in Modern Thedas, Kind of angsty, Kind of fluffy, Modern Inquisition, Modern Thedas, Mostly Solas POV, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-22
Updated: 2020-12-04
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:47:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 19,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24851050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ravenstrange/pseuds/ravenstrange
Summary: Inquisitor Vera Lavellan finds Solas at the Eluvian, waiting for her. But when the Dread Wolf turns around to face her, he sees in her what he has feared: the magic of the anchor after all the years has corrupted her and taken over her body. She is moments away from death, the magic threatening to explode out of her in a blast that would kill anyone near it.Solas is helpless to stop it, and Bull, Dorian, Cassandra, and Varric come running in far too late. The Inquisitor dies, and with the last of Vera Lavellan dissolving into magic, a green powerful blast explodes from her, destroyed the remaining lifeforms around them.Only, it doesn’t destroy the five left in the blast. Instead, they are flung forward in time, greeted by descendants of the Inquisition. And they have one more thing to tell them: Vera Lavellan is alive.A Modern Thedas tale, with a twist.Marked as complete, but will not be finished; read at own peril.
Relationships: Female Inquisitor & Solas, Female Lavellan/Solas, Lavellan & Solas
Comments: 26
Kudos: 35





	1. Chapter 1

“Solas?”

“You found me at last. I suppose you have questions,” He asked, his back still to her. He knew this meeting would be inevitable, but he could not let it change his path. He would see to the veil being torn down, he would see to the People being restored, and this world would be gone. He walked a path of death now, and he would not have her walk it with him. The anchor, he knew, would take her eventually. With her here now, he could stop it from spreading, stop it from destroying her. Corrupting her.

Vera Lavellan was a beautiful heart and soul, and he loved her. He would not see her perish due to his mistakes, even if eventually he knew that would be the outcome.

But when he finally turned around to face her, his calm exterior rapidly vanished. “Vhenan?” He asked quietly, as they walked towards each other.

The anchor was already past the point of no return. Her entire body was completely corrupted. The magic, _his magic_ , was deep in her veins, glowing green under her skin. Her eyes, sunken and hollow, the same magic burning through them.

How had he not seen this? How had he not been told of her slow corruption?

Why hadn’t he stopped it?

She took another step forward and stumbled, falling into his arms. He caught her, as they both sunk to the ground. “I know who you are,” She quietly spoke, “Fen’Harel.”

“Vera…”

The magic in her hand spiked, and she hissed out. He cast a spell to try to calm it down, but he knew this was it. It was too far gone now.

“I would have understood, Vhenan. I would have come with you, I would have helped _you_.” She kept her eyes shut, as if she was afraid to show what she was now. What the anchor had made her. What his magic had made her. Solas sharply inhaled.

“I know you would have,” All of this was wrong. All of this felt wrong. This was yet another one of his failures, his mistakes. He had welcomed the thought of seeing her, of hearing her talk him out of this, he _wanted_ that. He wanted to be proven wrong.

Instead, the magic was growing quickly, and there wasn’t much time.

The magic cracked and grew, and Vera threw her head back and screamed out, unable to deal with the pain. Solas held her through the screaming, through the pain that was eating her alive. “Help me,” She begged, and cried.

“It is too late,” Solas replied through shaking breaths, not hiding his remorse, not hiding his regret. Yet again everything he had built up to, everything he had touched, turned to ruin. Including the woman that he loved.

Her fingers dug into his arm as the magic flared again, and it started to reach it’s peak. Solas could feel the magic taking her over, taking over the last piece of her that was alive, and he cried. “Ar lath ma, vhenan,” He sobbed, and she weakly replied the same, before her body arched in his arms and she screamed out in pain again.

Her entire body started to glow bright green, and she finally opened her eyes, looking up at the sky, as magic started to pour out of her, a slow bubbling effect that would lead to something far more dangerous.

Voices were in the distance. Familiar.

“I hear her! She’s over here!”

“Shit, is that Chuckles?”

“Get away from her, Solas!”

“Guys, this doesn’t look too good…”

Solas tore his eyes away from the four that approached, “Get away, she is—”

They didn’t listen. Iron Bull, Dorian, Varric, Cassandra. Vera’s friends, her favorites, always fighting by her side. Fools, all of them fools, running towards a ticking bomb.

Vera was still staring at the sky, not screaming, but looking completely ruined. “Please, listen…” She gasped out, “Get awa—” Her last words cut off, to warn her friends, to back away.

There was no time though, as in an instant as the last speck of life left her, the magic exploded out of her body. It engulfed the entire area, and pushed all five of them back. It destroyed the trees and the grass, the ruins, and the large Eluvian. With the last of Vera Lavellan dissolving into magic, the green powerful blast destroyed the remaining lifeforms around them.

***

He opened his eyes, and immediately stood up to take in his surroundings.

Nothing here was what he knew, and judging by the four people staring back at him, they were also pissed and confused.

“Solas, I will kill you!” Cassandra screamed at the top of her lungs, and lunged towards him. Solas moved away quickly to avoid her punches, but Varric was faster and drew his bow and shot Solas in the foot.

“You killed her!”

“The magic killed her, it was destroying her!” Solas screamed back, “Why didn’t you do anything to stop it?”

“ _Vishante kaffas_ , why didn’t you come back and help?” Dorian screamed in reply, “We tried to reach you so many times!”

Solas pulled Varric’s arrow out of his foot and cast a healing spell over it, tossing the arrow to the side. “I got no such reports from my agents,” he spoke, and Dorian spit at him.

“Fuck your _agents_! Look what it did! Look what _you_ did!”

“Uh, guys?” Bull’s voice wasn’t one of anger, but of confusion, but everyone in the room ignored it. They continued to squabble with each other, as finally Bull sighed. “Hey, loud pissed off people, can you look at your surroundings please?”

The others had halted the onslaught of anger on Solas, and started to take in their surroundings. Bright lights, bookcases. A glowing box in the corner that seemed to have magical moving paintings. Outside, the buildings were tall and sleek. The sky was bright and had a faint sign of where a breach had been, but it felt old. _Very_ old. Decorations around were unlike anything Solas had seen, and the furniture were in a design he did not recognize.

“Where are we?” He asked, pure confusion on his face.

Dorian sneered at him to accuse him of a trick, but when Solas looked at him he watched the Tevinter’s expression soften, “You don’t know.”

Solas shook his head.

The sound of arriving footsteps, the five of them got into defensive stance, and when the person appeared before them, he did not look like anyone they had seen before. He was human, that much was clear, but he wore strange clothes, and his hair was styled in a strange way. In his hand was a book, that looked old. The man looked up from the book and as he settled on the five of them in front of him, his eyes went wide and he started screaming.

Just, not how _any_ of them had expected.

“Elizabeth!” The man screamed, “It finally happened! _WHERE ARE YOU!?!”_ The man ran screaming from the room, and he kept screaming to call others who might have been in the area.

Sounds of running footsteps towards them, and despite clearly not wanting to team up, the five of them got in a position to protect each other. As they had done in many battles when they were on the same side, when they fought in the Inquisition together.

When Vera was still vibrant and alive.

Finally, a woman appeared, and she held her hands out. “It’s okay, we’re not going to hurt you. Please put your weapons down.”

Behind her were three other humans, and a dwarf.

Solas heard Varric grunt towards the dwarf, who was looking at them with wide eyes. “Varric,” Dorian started, “That one looks like you.” Varric rolled his eyes, but stayed on alert.

Dorian’s voice had not been quiet enough, though, as the foreign people in front of them started muttering. The woman in the front stepped forward again. “Please, we can explain everything.”

“Where are we?” Dorian asked, the rest of them standing on guard. Solas kept looking around, looking for something that could give them a clue. He did not appreciate being cornered like this.

“I think, Master Pavus, you mean _when?”_ One of the women piped up excitedly, in a manner that seemed familiar.

“When? Is this…we went forward in time _again?_ Really, I am getting quiet tired of—wait, how do you know my name?”

“We know all your names,” the woman who was their leader, said again. “Let us start again.” She looked to the excitable woman behind her, and nodded.

“I’m Maria Montilyet!” She bowed gracefully.

The man who discovered them first, nodded and stepped forward, “Joseph Rainer.”

The next woman, shrugged, looking at her nails, “Carrie Hawke.”

The dwarf looked straight at Varric as he said his name, “Brian Tethras.”

The leader of the strangers nodded, “and I’m Elizabeth Rutherford. Welcome to the Modern Inquisition.”


	2. Chapter 2

Solas slowly lowered his hands, and the others lowered their weapons. Dorian just dropped his on the floor and took a step towards the others. Bull put his hand on Dorian’s shoulder to stop him, but Dorian waved him off.

“Did you say the ‘Modern Inquisition’?” He asked, and Varric grunted.

“That’s what you ask? Not ‘why do you have the names of our friends’ and also _why do you have my family name?_ ” Varric asked as he looked to Brian.

Brian laughed, “Don’t worry. I’m your cousin. _Very_ distantly related cousin.”

“How distant.”

“Like, _two thousand years_ distant?”

“Andraste’s ass,” Varric muttered, and looked at Solas, “Chuckles, what did you _do_?”

The woman named Elizabeth stepped forward, “Mr. Tethras, sorry to inform you, but the Dread Wolf here had nothing to do with your current situation.”

Solas’ felt the color leave his face, as he looked from Elizabeth to those he ‘traveled’ with. Then his eyes narrowed, and took a step towards Elizabeth. “You are not Elven, you are not…how do you know this?”

The man who had found them before, Joseph Rainer, walked forward and held out a book. He handed it to Cassandra. The book was old, but on the front was the symbol of the Inquisition. Cassandra snatched the book out of Joseph’s hands, glaring at the man before she opened it and started to look through it.

Her expression went from anger to confusion, and then shock. “This is…years of history. But it starts with our lives, with…”

Elizabeth nodded, “Yeah. Like I said, we can explain everything. But we have apartments for you—”

“Apart…whats?” Dorian raised an eyebrow, and behind Elizabeth, Maria Montilyet laughed.

“It’s a home. This building is owned by the Inquisition, and within it are homes for all of you. We’ve been waiting for you all for a very long time.”

“How long?” Varric asked, and Brian rolled his eyes.

“About two thousand—”

“Alright, I get it.”

The tall human female, Carrie stepped forward, “Okay, let’s get this show on the road. Mr. Tethras and Ms. Pentaghast, will you come with us?” She gestured between herself and Brian, and Cassandra and Varric looked at each other and shrugged, before following out of the room.

“Wait!” Dorian called out, “I cannot be the only person here that finds this insane! This is _time magic_ , which means we have a way to get home if we just—”

“Mr. Pavus, we have quite the exquisite home for you, you should _see_ all the books!” Maria laughed, “Oh and I’m afraid your trip here was one way. But I will explain it, I promise!” Her up-beat and happy attitude seemed to soften on Dorian and Bull, who was watching. “Oh and Mr…Bull?” She asked, and Bull laughed.

“Yeah?”

“You’ll be coming with Joseph and I as well! Your homes are near each other and you will simply _love_ the things we have for you!”

“Sure, kid,” Bull laughed, and looked at Dorian, giving him a shrug before they followed away.

Left standing was Solas and Elizabeth. He stood tall with his arms behind him, and Elizabeth put her hands on her hips. “You’re trying to figure me out,” She laughed, “Trying to see if I’m a threat.”

Solas nodded, “Yes. I wasn’t exactly hiding it.”

The woman shrugged. “That’s fine. But I’m not a threat. We’re here to help you.”

“Help me with—”

“Oh, no, not _that_!” Elizabeth laughed, “No, your plan _failed_. Well, sort of. Can I explain?”

He stared at her, silently, before he raised an eyebrow. She _laughed_ at his failure and Solas couldn’t tell if he was offended or relieved. Not that it mattered in the end. If he had been flung forward in time, that meant any chance he had of trying to recover Vera, was long lost. If there had ever been a chance. Any chance of trying to his plan was gone, not that he had the desire to even go through with it. The world progressed around them, this building was evident of that.

“Come with me, I’ll show you where you’ll live. We can talk there,” Elizabeth said and left the room, expecting him to follow her.

Which, he did. It wasn’t as if he had anywhere else he could go.

He followed her through the hallways, and to a metal door. She pressed a button and it opened and Solas looked at her with curiosity. “Get in.”

“Excuse me?”

She sighed, “It’s a contraption that will raise us up a few floors in this building to get you to your new home.” Elizabeth said, with what he assumed she thought was a surprising amount of patience. It wasn’t. The attempt had been made though. He had woken up in a world he did not recognize before, and understood the frustration of needing to relearn everything. But the world he had woken up in before was not as off and strange as this one was.

It made him uneasy.

When he hadn’t moved into the metallic box, Elizabeth did first and held the doors open for him. He relented, following her, and watched in amazement as the doors closed on their own and lifted them up in the metal box as if by magic.

“It’s not magic,” She said, as if she had read his mind. He narrowed his eyes at her, and she sighed. “Don’t get all ‘I’m an Ancient God-Mage’ on me, please. I’m really just trying to help you.”

The doors opened with a ding sound unfamiliar to his ears, and Elizabeth walked out. In front of them was another hallway, and a single door. “This floor is yours. Everyone has their own floor, and it’s split into two apar—homes. Two homes. This is only one home.” She used a key, or he assumed it was a key, and she opened the door. “Go on,” She said, gesturing for him to walk inside.

With nowhere else to go, he followed.

The home, or apartment as she had called it, seemed pleasing to him. There were canvases and paint, there were bookshelves, cool and warm colors were chosen for the room. There were items he did not understand or know, but for some reason, it didn’t bother him.

It felt like magic was dancing on his skin again, so familiar, and he looked to Elizabeth with a raised eyebrow. “I thought you said my plan failed. I can feel a stronger connection here.”

She nodded. “Yes, _your_ plan failed. Through the years, the Inquisition found your plans, and improved upon them. Now, in this age, we have a strong connection beyond the veil. It’s still _there_ , but that is only because it keeps the demons and spirits of malicious nature out. Those who are not malicious come and go as they please. Hell, one works as a fortune teller down the street.”

“What?”

“Okay that was a joke, the last bit, but everything else wasn’t.” Elizabeth shrugged her shoulders, and took a seat in a nearby chair. Solas turned away from her, as he walked through the home. He ran his fingers across the fabric of the furniture, investigated the books in the shelves. Looked through the windows to the world below he didn’t recognize.

Was what she was telling him true? That there had been another way to accomplish what he needed? But if that was the case… “Why are there no elves among you?”

“There was. He was in the Inquisition with us for a long time. Descendant of first Inquisitor Ameridan’s line, actually.” Elizabeth said, but there as tone that Solas recognized. Of sorrow. Of mourning. “He died a few years ago. We were engaged to be married. But he was…wonderful. Andrew wanted to see this day so badly. Maker, he was more excited to meet _you_ than anyone else. He was supposed to be the person showing you this place. Not me.”

“I am sorry for your loss, Elizabeth.” He realized he meant it when he said it. But it only reminded him of his recent loss.

She shook her head, “Thank you, but that’s not necessary. I’m continuing on, just as he wanted me to.” Slowly, she smiled, and stood up from her chair. “In the room behind you, you’ll find more…appropriate clothing to wear. And in here,” She walked over to a table, with two chairs near it. “Is a potion.”

Solas approached the table, and looked at the potion, picking it up and examining it. The clear bottle had silver and purple liquid magic swirling inside it. “What is this?”

“Our ancestors created it. It’s a potion to help… _modernize_ you and the others. A fast way of learning everything you need to, while retaining your original memories and knowing exactly who you are. That way, we don’t spend thousands of years catching you up on thousands of years of history. You’ll all know everything that we know. “

“And if we don’t take it?”

Elizabeth sighed, “See, _this_ is why Andrew wanted to be here, because he was so much like you, from what we read. Listen, Solas. None of us are here to trick you. None of us. The Inquisition still exists solely because of _this_ exact moment. Why would we trick you? All of us, once we turn 18, take that _exact_ potion. So we have the knowledge passed to us, to continue our mission.”

He wanted to reject it. It would make sense to do so, after all. But his desire to learn what happened, his curiosity was outweighing everything. There was not a world in the past he wanted to return to. He did not have anything he wanted to live for, to strive for, with Vera being gone.

So he took the top off the bottle and drank it. If Elizabeth protested, he did not hear it, as he stumbled backwards and fell on a nearby lounge chair.

The potion hit immediately, and Solas saw and _understood_.

The immediate after the explosion, and the mourning everyone did after. Burials were held for days, weeks, after. Those who followed him abandoned the path, but under the request of Divine Victoria – Leilana – they rejoined the Inquisition. His Agents and the Inquisition started to work together. Research. Combining their work together, to lift the People up, but protect the world as it was. Keep those who had been locked away, locked away.

They discover that Vera’s magic had mixed with the anchor. That it flew them across time, due to her experiences with the time spell in Redcliffe. They wouldn’t know when and where everyone would appear, only that they would. But that they would not be able to return home, to their time. The anchor’s magic had been the reason it happened in the first place – without that, there was no return.

Then the years that followed. The creation of the potion Solas took, created by Vivienne and an Elven woman named Merrill. Perfected and used generation after generation. The members of the original Inquisition married, had children, and when they turned 18, gave them the potion. The Inquisition, long thought to be disbanded, continued in secret for centuries. All for the same purpose.

To help them when they were flung forward into the future. Generation after generation, it was passed down.

He saw building rise and fall. He saw advancements being made, wars being fought. The rise and fall of Kings and Queens. He saw the technology change with the years, and understood it.

He saw every generation go through the exact same thing.

Then, he felt everything slow around him. He felt his mind catch up with his body, and closed his eyes to focus on his breathing. When he opened his eyes, he saw Elizabeth holding out a plastic water bottle.

Plastic water bottle. He knew what that was.

He took it in his hand and took off the top, taking a slow drink of the water, and looked at the bottle in amusement, and also astonishment.

“Take it easy, that’s thousands of years you just jammed into your head. You handled it better than I thought though. Guess it’s the whole ‘immortal’ thing you have going on.” She joked, as she took a seat on the ottoman in front of him.

He knew that word too.

“This is…fascinating.”

“It is. But also…” She gestured to his clothing. His armor he still wore, from the past. “You need to change. Shower. Clean yourself up. We’ll have to meet with the others, we have more to discuss.”

Slowly, Solas pushed himself out of the armchair, and nodded, turning towards the bedroom. “Where…”

“Oh, right, take the elevator down to the 3rd floor. That’s our headquarters. You’re on the 10th floor. Dorian and Bull are on the 9th, Varric and Cassandra are on the 8th. Myself and the others are in the floors after that.” Elizabeth nodded, and stood up heading for the door. “Take your time though. I know this is difficult. For all of you, really. Come down when you’re ready.”

Elizabeth left the apartment, and the door shut behind her.

Solas took the time to look around the living room again, now that he understood what everything was. Things were stylized in a fashion that he had liked in the past, but with a modern twist now. Neutral colors, with hints of old. Bookshelves with volumes waiting to be discovered. Canvases to be painted. A television – and how surprised he was that he knew and understood what that was – sat between two of the bookshelves. Little things he hadn’t known, were easier to pick out now. A kitchen, with amenities. Couches, chairs, blinds on windows.

He walked in the direction of what was the bedroom, and shrugged his fur off his shoulders. When he entered the bedroom, there was a chest sitting on the bed. On top of it, there was a note that said _For your armor_. He slowly opened it, and piece by piece he undressed and set his armor in there. Then, he walked to the connecting bathroom to start a shower.

Shower. All of this was bizarre, but also made complete sense. Something he would have to focus on.

The water was warm, and as he stood under it, he leaned his hands and head against the wall and closed his eyes. When he did, he did not see anything the potion showed him.

He saw her eyes glowing bright green with his magic. He saw her crying out in pain. He saw her telling him that she loved him. He saw her die in his arms.

Eyes still squeezed shut, he balled his hands into fists and punched the wall, screaming out in anger. The anger quickly dissolved into regret and sorrow, and soon the tears mixed with the water pouring on his face, dripping off his nose. Why was it that he deserved to live, and she had to die? Why was it that he had to see her suffer, when he could have done something? He could have saved her. He should have stayed. He had wanted to stay, he had wanted to tell her everything.

But even in the end, she loved him. She wasn’t angry or upset with him. That made it hurt more.

He punched the wall again, and again until he felt pain and opened his eyes to see that his hands were bleeding. He took a step back and watched as the water washed the blood away, sending it down the drain, and he went about cleaning himself.

He exited the shower, wrapping a towel around his waist and looked around for anything to bandage up his hands. Yes, he could have done a healing spell. His mind was telling him that he should. But his heart wanted the reminder of his actions.

Hands bandaged, he searched the closets for something to wear, clothing already picked out. Dressed, he locks the chest that is on the bed, and slides it under the bed for now, and leaves the apartment.

The elevator ride down to the ‘Headquarters’ as Elizabeth described it, was different than going up. There was nothing unfamiliar about it, and yet he was fascinated by it. The conflicting feeling of indifference and wonder would take time to get used to.

All things he didn’t deserve to have.

The doors dinged open, and he stepped out into the main hall, voices coming from the left. From the room they first arrived in.

And now, when he walked in, everyone was chatting happily. The Modern Inquisition mixing with the Inquisition of the past. But as his presence became known, there was sudden silence.

He sighed and sat down in the nearest open spot, a chair next to Dorian. A man who, immediately looked at his bandaged hands.

“Punching out your feelings, Solas?” He asked, raising an eyebrow, and Solas stared. When he didn’t reply, Dorian rolled his eyes. “Good.”

Elizabeth, sitting on a couch next to Cassandra, cleared her throat. “Now that you all are here, and have taken the potions, I am sure you have a lot of questions. But we have things to give you first.” She leaned forward to pick up a box, and she handed it to Cassandra. “In this box are things you need to survive here. Wallet, ID, phone, money. We want to make this as seamless a transition for you, and for that to happen…you need these.”

The box was passed around and each member of the original Inquisition took out the items for them. The box was handed to Solas last, and he set the empty box down once the items he needed were in his lap. He looked at the ID, and raised an eyebrow. “Should there be a photo here?”

“Oh!” Maria clapped, “Yes! This is my favorite part! Hold the ID up in front of your face like this,” She demonstrated, “Smile and say ‘Inquisition’!”

Elizabeth laughed, “You just have to look at it, you don’t have to say the last part.”

“You’re no fun, Lizzy.”

“And you’re overly excitable, Maria.”

Varric chuckled, “You know, I think Curly and Ruffles would have liked to meet you two.”

At that comment, both Elizabeth and Maria looked at each other and smiled, and nodded. “Thank you. That means a lot, Mr. Tethras,” Maria said, and Varric shook his head.

“None of this formal stuff. Our names will do fine.”

Cassandra nodded in agreement. Dorian scoffed, “I was quite liking the formalit—ow!”

Bull laughed after pinching Dorian, “Informal is just fine.”

Solas looked at his ID, which now formed an image of him onto it. “Fascinating.”

Dorian hummed approval, “Agreed,” Solas looked to the other mage with a nod, a reminder of familiar times when they would discuss their common interests. Dorian looked to be in agreement of that, before it seemed reality came back and his face soured again.

Solas sighed.

“So, if we use our actual names on these cards, won’t that cause suspicion?” Cassandra asked, “If we are…known for who we were? When we were alive? Though we are still alive now and—”

“Easy, Seeker, don’t confuse yourself more.”

Cassandra huffed, though she smiled at Varric.

“Two thousand or so years have passed since you were all alive,” Brian pointed out, “Plenty of people have actually named their children after you all. Your names are quite common now. No one will really think twice.”

“Truly?”

“Yep,” Cassie shrugged. “Most of your family names have been carried down through the years, but for those of you who didn’t, the world is larger than it was before.”

“Fascinating,” both Solas and Dorian said at the exact same time, and scowled at each other. The others in the room, laughed.

“You only need to use a new name if you want to. Whatever you are comfortable with.” Elizabeth cleared her throat, “But now that is out of the way, we have one last…thing to tell you.”

The laughter from the Modern Inquisition faded. They actually looked nervous.

“Inquisitor Vera Lavellan, she—”

“Died, we know,” Dorian said softly, and this time Solas didn’t bother looking at anything other than his hands.

“Actually, that’s not completely true.”

“What?” Solas immediately spoke, and sat up more in his chair.

“She’s alive.”

The realization that Vera could be alive at _all_ caused frenzy in the room. Everyone immediately started talking over each other, asking why they were not told before, why it was kept from them.

Solas remained quiet. He stared at a spot on the floor, tried to control his breathing.

He had watched her die. Because of him. He had seen what the anchor had done to her, the corruption to her body and soul. He had seen what she had become, and he had been unable to stop it. She died in his arms. She became pure magic, no longer to be contained in a mortal body, and it destroyed everything and everyone in it’s path.

This was a joke. It was a cruel joke.

He wasn’t here, this wasn’t real. He was some how imagining this strange world, this strange future. These strange people. None of this was real.

He felt something hit him hard in the arm, and his sorrow quickly turned to annoyance as he looked up and over to what had hit him. Dorian waved and offered a half smile, “We find out our dear Lavellan is _alive_ and you go fully into brooding mode.”

He tried to say something, but nothing came out.

“Well, where _is she?”_ Cassandra asked with impatience, “You will tell us, yes?”

Elizabeth twisted her expression, uncertainty coloring it, and didn’t speak.

“Oh just tell them, Liz,” Brian rolled his eyes, “They’re going to know eventually.”

Elizabeth raised an eyebrow, “She works at the museum with me. She focuses on the history of Thedas, and has recently taken an interest in the Inquisition. We’ve tried to hide some things from her, not to overwhelm her. She knows most of the names of the Inquisition though, and she knows that I’m related to the Commander _very_ distantly. There are still things she doesn’t know though.”

“Wait,” Bull leaned forward, pointing to Elizabeth, “You said she’s interested in the Inquisition? Why is the _Inquisitor_ Interested in something that she already lived?”

“Because,” Maria spoke quietly, “She does not remember it.”

“You didn’t give her one of those potions?”

“We can’t,” Elizabeth frowned, and stood up from where she was sitting. She walked over to the table, where the book that Joseph had been carrying was resting. She put her hand on it. “Everything from when the explosion on, is in this book. Old research notes. Old information. On every single choice and moment that brought you to the moment you were in.”

Solas finally raised his eyes to look at her, though his mind was starting to get lost in the memory. What she had looked like in those final moments was not something he wanted to experience again. “The magic that destroyed her, it would be the only thing that could restore her, right?”

Those of the ‘modern Inquisition’ looked at each other, exchanging glances. “We’re not exactly sure,” Joseph added in.

With lack of testing the theory, it did make sense. The only one who had access to the power of the anchor was Solas himself.

The rest of the room erupted into conversations that he didn’t pay attention to, theories he knew they couldn’t test. Eventually, the conversation died out, and the modern Inquisition left. Not wanting to be in the room alone with those who hated him (not that he could blame them), Solas rose from his chair and moved to leave.

“Wait.”

Solas turned around and looked at the four staring back at him. The entire situation was bizarre, and if he didn’t have a handle on things yet, he was certain that they didn’t either. To be ripped from the world they knew, to be shoved so drastically into the future…for those around them, it had been thousands of years. For them, it had been mere _hours_.

Varric had been the one to tell Solas to wait, and he sighed. “Listen. We all have a lot of shit we need to work through. And, I imagine all of us have choice words to say to you. But here’s the thing: you’re stuck like us. You’re not some…Dalish myth or whatever it was,” though to this Solas made a face, “You’re just a person. You’re like us now.”

“An interesting view, Varric.”

“But it’s not a lie.”

“No. I suppose it is not.”

“But,” Cassandra sighed, “don’t think we don’t have questions. But right now…perhaps we be happy that we are alive, and perhaps have not all lost as much as we thought.”

Solas did not choose to reply to that. It was easier to leave, to head back to where he would be resting his head, and be alone with his own thoughts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time...we find Lavellan :)


	3. Chapter 3

By the second day of this new world, Solas had decided that forcing himself to only view things from his view up high wasn’t suitable enough. He wanted to be out, he wanted to see what it was that this world actually offered.

It had not stopped him, of course, from doing research. From reaching to the fade, but he wasn’t finding any answers. Nothing that would give him the peace that he had longed for.

For so long, he had been single minded in his goal. He had taken revenge on those who had murdered Mythal, and banished them. But sundering the connection to the Fade had been too much, and destroyed what had been _his_ world in the process. He was a stubborn, foolish, arrogant man for ever thinking that anything he was doing would have worked exactly as he planned.

Waking up weaker than expected, he had assumed that the world was doomed from the start. A world of walking tranquil, why would this world need to survive?

Yet, he met _her_ and it changed _everything_. He started to second guess himself. He started to feel a split in who he was as Fen’Harel and who he was as Solas – he had wanted the world to be as it was, but not if she was not in it. Leaving her had been the hardest choice he had made, and considering what he had done in the past, it spoke volumes.

But he lost it all again in a moment, and now where he was…he wasn’t prepared for this. The world was not as tranquil as he had thought it might be, but it wasn’t as powerful as it could be.

Could he be powerful enough to tear it all down, _finally_ ending the path he walked?

Or, better yet, did he even _want_ to?

If what the young Rutherford had said was true, that Vera was _alive_ , didn’t he owe it to himself to see it for himself?

It was easy to lie to himself, to push himself out of the door and down to the streets.

It was sensory overload, but thankful the building they were in had been in a quiet part of the city. He still wasn’t completely certain what city they were in, but the air still felt familiar. Places he had been before, spirits that could call to him if needed. It gave him little comfort, but it was not enough to calm his anxious mind.

Today, he had a single goal.

The museum. She was said to be there, so why not go straight there?

Finding the Museum of Thedas History was surprisingly harder than he had expected, still feeling a bit like a young boy set out in the world with no direction. The potion had done well to acclimate him to his surroundings, but his sense of _direction_ needed some work.

If he wasn’t so annoyed at himself about it, he would have laughed at how pathetic it was.

The Museum of Thedas was quiet. There were few visitors here, but those who were focused on the art of more recent history. Not ‘Ancient History’ that Solas was looking for. He was curious, how kind was history to him? Was it as insulting as the Dalish tales, or had the truth come out fully? How were those he knew treated? How had the Inquisition been treated?

Finding the wing of the museum he needed was easier than expected, and when he opened the doors, he found himself face to face with something he didn’t expect to see.

One of his statues, in the middle of the room, stone wolf face staring straight at him.

His eyebrows furrowed in slight confusion, and he stared at it for far too long. Long enough for someone to come and speak with him.

“Oh! We just fully restored that, isn’t it beautiful?”

The sound of the voice caused a stir in his heart, and he felt it quicken its pace, as he turned to look to see who was speaking to him.

She stood before him, bright green eyes. Brown hair in waves around her shoulders. Bright smile, excitement playing on her features.

Most importantly, there was no anchor on her hand. There was no corruption. She was…

Vera Lavellan was magnificently whole and alive and he wanted to cry.

He was staring at her, he knew it, as she laughed. “You alright?”

“Ah, yes, sorry. I…suppose I didn’t expect to see anyone here.” A lie. But a small one.

Vera laughed and pushed her hair behind her ears. “I get that a whole lot. Not a ton of people like to come in here.”

He wasn’t sure what to do with his hands, and awkwardly put them in his pockets. “Why?”

“Ancient History, it’s not as interesting to people. Why get lost in things that happened thousands of years ago, right? Though, if _you’re_ here that means you’re interested…?” Hopefulness in her eyes, in her voice, but it changed suddenly, “Unless you’re just looking for the restroom, and if you are, then you took a wrong turn.”

He was quick to shake his head, and correct her, “No!” And perhaps that was a little too excitable than he had intended it to be. “No,” He corrected again, clearing his throat, “I tend to prefer things that happened thousands of years ago,” he smiled and Vera smiled brightly back. Solas was pleased, and he looked to the statue in front of them. “When did you say you got this in? It’s…” _A wrong reminder._ “Interesting.”

She reached to touch the statue, and looked up at it. “Two days ago! An anonymous donor had it fully restored, and here it is!”

“I didn’t expect to see a Dread Wolf statue in a museum,” He added, watching her as he spoke, curious to her reaction.

Her reaction was to look at him with excitement, which was _not_ what he had been expecting. “You know what it is! No one else around here did, and I tried explaining it to Elizabeth, but she just shrugged me off. You’d think she’d be more open to history like this considering that—” She stopped herself scrunched her nose. “Getting ahead of myself. Would you like to see what else we have?”

More than anything, he wanted to see anything she wanted to show him. He wanted to listen to her speak without the weight of the world on her shoulders, the fears and the doubts that used to weigh her down, the pain of living every day with the anchor. “Yes, I’d like that.”

“Follow me!” If this was another world, this would be when she would have grabbed his hand, dragging him along with her, as she pointed out different things. In their old world, she would point out the clouds and the shapes she saw them as. At night she’d point out the stars. When they were alone, she’d point out his scars and she’d kiss each one, as if she wanted to heal them.

Some scars couldn’t be healed, but she always did it anyway.

Solas followed Vera through the museum, the small collection that she had. Almost everything she had in her exhibit was relating to the Inquisition. Stories of their grand adventures, though some were not _completely_ true. But, close enough to being true. Items he once would have held in his hand were under pressure-treated cases, shielding it from the elements. A dagger he knew Cole once used. A (almost gone) copy of one of Varric’s novels. An empty Jar of Bees from Sera. A gray warden shield. Runes that Dagna had made. It went on, and on.

He stopped in front of a case that held other larger weapons. The Commander’s Sword and Shield, in _very_ good condition; presumably kept that way through the generations, a fact he already knew to be true.

The case next to it was a collection of mage staffs. The one that Vera herself had favored, three dragon heads at the tip of it. Next to it, was one of his. The condition wasn’t great, but his staff was right next to hers, as it was meant to be there.

“I’ve never had anyone actually _want_ to look at all of this, especially for this long,” Vera said, smiling, “I’m so glad that I got to share this with you, Mr…” Her eyes went wide, “Oh, I never asked your name. I’m so sorry. I’m Vera,” She held her hand out, for him to take.

Solas should have hesitated to shake her hand, but he eagerly took her hand in his, shaking it. “Ah, Solas,” He said, and Vera laughed.

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard that name before!” Wait, was his name not in the books? Perhaps he understood that, he had been a simple Apostate. No power behind that particular name. Should he had used a different name? Why hadn’t he? Why did it feel strange to tell the truth in this way?

“It’s nice to meet you, Solas.” Ah, that was why it felt strange. There was no recognition in her eyes to who he was. Who he had been to her. Perhaps that was for the best. But it still was painful.

He nodded and returned her smile, “Likewise, Vera. I do have a question for you, if that’s alright? Do you happen to know if you have any job openings here?” Wait. What was he _doing_? This was not smart. This was going to lead to a disaster.

But her features lit up like the stars and his heart tightened. It was going to lead to disaster, but a beautiful one. “We do! How are you with restoration?”

“Depends on what needs restoring,” He smirked, and oh he hated himself in that moment, knowing he was thinking of more than a few things.

Vera waved him on, to follow her into a room in the back. “The museum got these as a donation a few months ago, but I haven’t been able to find anyone who can do anything with them. They’re too beautiful to lose to the past.” She lead the way through a door and then turned the lights on.

There were large stone tablets supported by metal scaffolding and had fabric draped over them. Vera walked over to a metal staircase on wheels and moved it over to the first tablet. She climbed up and gently pulled the fabric back, and let it fall to the floor.

Solas stared at what was in front of him, the second time being surprised by something of his own creation.

“These, Solas, used to be in the castle the Inquisition called home! This type of painting has been lost to the years, and I haven’t been able to find anyone who could restore them.”

The hours he would spend painting her choices, her decisions, how she shaped the world. How she’d sit in his chair at his desk and just watch him. They’d work in silence, her working on reports at the desk, and him painting her history across the walls.

He had never finished the last one. He had intended to, someday, though he had never figured out how.

“What do you say?” She asked, her voice bringing back to the present. “Think you might be up to the task?”

“Yes.” Said with no hesitation, no doubt.

She walked down the stairs, and stood in front of him with her hands on her hips. “I’m going to need to see proof that you’d be able to paint in this style, and keep the originals intact, can you supply that?”

He could have laughed in that moment, and he wanted to. Instead, he nodded. “Absolutely. When would you like it by?”

“When do you think you can get it to me?”

“Two days from now?”

Vera held her hand out for Solas to shake once more, “Then I’ll see you in two days!”

He shook her hand again, and despite himself, grinned.


	4. Chapter 4

He had forgotten how easy it was to just get lost within brush strokes. Of course, the way of painting had changed through the years, more than the memory potion had been able to give him. But there was something to be said for returning to the classics.

Or, rather, what was considered a classic had simply just been the way he worked for thousands of years.

It had been difficult at first to pick what he would paint first in the ‘style’ she had requested. It amused him, to be given this opportunity by almost walking straight into it. For some reason, he had not expected to be face to face with the stone structure that so many used to identify him by. He had thought it would have been lost to the ages, to the thousands of years that passed. Forgotten, as most tales were. Forgotten, as most truth was.

And yet, there it had been. A stark reminder of who he had _once_ been, but not a confirmation of who he needed to be _again_.

He had been reminded a few times by those in the building that there was no need for them to hold onto who they _used_ to be, and even if it had been said with gusto and pride (Dorian) or romanticism to start anew (Cassandra), he found he could read between the lines quite clearly.

_There is no need to let Fen’Harel consume you again._

The world had resolved most of its problems. There had been war, there would always be wars to be fought and won. There would always be villains to rise and fall, but the world continued on. The world moved _forward_.

There was a second chance here.

A second chance he was more willing to take, now that he had seen her face to face. He had felt a shock to the system, a jolt to his heart, reminding him he was alive. He was alive, and he would be a fool not to take this chance.

He had been a fool for thousands of years. Perhaps it was time to put that down, and step away. Set aside under lock and key, like the armor that rested in the chest. Sealed away. He could reject what he had been, cast it out to allow this seed to grow. With the right amount of care, it could be what he had always wanted. He could live, finally, without fear. Without longing, without death. He could just _be._

It was then that he had decided what he would paint for the commission. A self-portrait. Who he had once been, casting out the wolf inside. Holding a hand up, to stop the beast from charging. Taming the beast, as he had once longed to be tamed.

She had tamed him, but not enough. And how he had longed for it to just be complete, for him to allow himself to be hers. He loved her fully and deeply, and he had feared it was not enough.

He had once looked for opportunity where there had not been any, and created it for himself. He had never taken an opportunity that had stared at him so beautifully like this before.

For a day he painted. He got lost the memories of her, and memories of his last life. Thousands of years meant thousands of regrets to cast out, and it was heavy work. Casting out all of the regret would not come easily, and it would not be complete in a day. But it would be a good start, a small chip in the wall that could eventually turn to dust at his feet, revealing what was truly behind it.

A knock at his door shook him out of his thoughts, and the paintbrush was set down carefully beneath the canvas. When he turned around, the door was opened and letting himself into the apartment was Varric. The other man shut the door behind him, as he walked around Solas’ home. Or, where he dwelled. It was not a home. Not yet.

“I suppose this is exactly what I had expected,” He said with amusement, “They managed to get us all correct.”

Solas allowed himself a sly smirk, as he picked up a rag and wiped the wet paint from his hands. “I imagine that is what happens when they have thousands of years to discuss us.”

Varric chuckled, and nodded in agreement. “Do you think they did anything _but_ discuss us? Seems a crap life to live, to just study and wait for history to just… _appear_.” Varric wandered towards the bookshelves, curious to what was placed there.

Tossing the rag back onto the side table by the canvas, Solas walked over to where there had been a wine rack set up. He selected a wine, and moved to the counter of the kitchen, taking out two glasses and poured them both half way. A glass was brought over to Varric, and Solas settled into a chair with his own glass. “I imagine they still found time to live. But, you know what it is like to live for a mission and nothing else.”

There was simply a sound of agreement, not approval, from Varric as he took a drink from the glass. He was still looking through the bookshelves. “Did you know they made one of those…shit, what is it called... _films_ off of one of my books? Actually, a few of them. Apparently, it’s popular to create films off of ‘ancient text’.” Varric shook his head then, and moved to sit on the couch next to Solas’ chair. “Ancient text. Swords and Shields is _ancient text_. But also a very popular film series.”

Solas actually laughed. The absurdity was still striking him at odd times, of being placed so far in the future, where he understood everything and yet everything felt so foreign. “You must be worth a fortune, Varric,” he replied with a shrug.

“I am, apparently. This building…everything is apparently due to the ‘Tethras Estate’. Who knew there would be large amounts of money with my writing after all. I should thank…” Varric trailed off, “well, shit, I was going to say Curly, but he’s not exactly alive anymore, is he.”

“You could thank his descendant. Or, _yours_ , which seems more applicable.”

“Brian? Nah. Shit’s weird there. A cousin of a cousin times _two thousand years_ , but still cursed with my dashing good looks. The _horrors_ that guy must have lived with.”

Solas rolled his eyes and took a drink. “Indeed.”

A silence fell between them two men that Solas almost considered comfortable. A strange feeling to have, but one that was quickly called to attention by Varric.

“Chuckles, do you think that if we had stayed in our time, that we could have convinced you to…” He trailed off, but Solas gave the other man credit for looking at him in the eye when he spoke.

He took a drink before setting the glass down on the side table next to him, and ran a hand over his lips. “If everything continued exactly as it had, if instead of us being transported, that she just died…” Solas cleared his throat, deciding to let the uncomfortable words form, “No. In that brief moment, I felt that the world was no longer worth saving, if she was not in it. There was nothing for me to live for, and I would have willingly walked into death and brought everything down with me with my last breath.”

“And now?”

“Now?”

“Yes, how do you feel _now_?”

Solas’ eyes drifted to his hands, specks of dried paint on them. His calloused thumb ran over the paint on his pointer finger, and he gave off the smallest of sighs. He shook his head. “This world has nothing to fear from me,” He said as he raised his glance back to Varric. “I just want to see what this chance will bring me. What was that Cassandra said yesterday? A chance to find the beauty in life again.”

Varric smiled at that and nodded. “Good. But don’t let yourself go down that path again, Chuckles.”

“I would be a fool to ignore the advancements that had been made through the years that we traveled, Varric. A compromise was made, and perhaps it is not exactly what I envisioned, but the world is still better for it.”

“I suppose it also helps that Vera is alive.”

“Yes,” Solas chuckled, “ _That_ helps as well.”

Varric set down his wine, and Solas watched his glance go towards the painting by the wall. “Painting again?”

Solas just made an affirmative sound.

“Wouldn’t have anything to do with the museum looking for a restoration artist, would it?”

Solas’ eyes shifted, and he raised an eyebrow, and Varric shrugged.

“I apparently live next to a romantic and overly determined Seeker,” He chuckled, “Besides, I couldn’t write that if I tried.”

“Why not?”

“Too simple. Where’s the twist? Where’s the excitement?”

“Perhaps this is excitement enough.”

Varric stood up and smirked. “Yeah, maybe.” He paused. “So, another chance to find the ‘beauty’?”

Solas nodded, “Your Seeker said it best.”

“Yeah, I suppose she did.”


	5. Chapter 5

It was rare that he felt this level of nervousness. But somewhere along the way, he had allowed himself to feel the more basic emotions he had once tried to cut himself off from. The changes had started to come when he allowed himself to know the members of the Inquisition better. First with the ‘Herald of Andraste’, though she constantly joked that she was really ‘the Herald to Nothing’, despite the protests from the faithful. She walked through her life with a sense of determination he had never quite seen from the Dalish, and his curiosity was getting the better of him.

She was marked with the claims of Mythal, and he couldn’t help but wonder if his friend would have liked Vera. Though, that was colored quickly with the note that he did not like that she was marked for _anyone_ , despite it being someone he held such high respect for.

He hadn’t expected to be so drawn to Vera. He hadn’t expected to be drawn to her for anything other than his magic on her hand, his anchor that he needed. It was rare for him to be surprised by anything, as he had grown calculating in his years. He had taken pride in that he always saw what was coming, could always guess the enemy’s next move.

Which was most likely why he had never really seen Vera coming. She was never really his enemy. He would never really be able to see her that way. And curiosity turned to friendship. When she helped him with Wisdom, that friendship turned into adoration. Then, without realizing it, that adoration had turned into love. It had turned into him fearing that his magic might be changing her and ended with him telling her that he loved her.

He did love her. He had loved her. He loved her still.

Anticipation was something he handled better as he grew older. In his youth he was reckless and had no patience. He wanted when he wanted it and took it with greed. But everyone learned the hard way not to act with such abandon, and he had learned that lesson hard. Patience, anticipation, it made things sweeter. But he had never really thought of anticipation in romantic terms before her.

Instead of the anticipation of a great battle, or of a well-fought victory, he was bubbling with anticipation just to see her. Just to be near her. To touch her, in the smallest of ways. Hands brushing against each other when walking through Skyhold. Her head resting on his shoulder as they sat around the fire at camp listening to one of Varric’s lavish stories. Her hand on his, laying side by side in the grass, pointing out the stars to him though he never looked at them when he had her next to him. The smallest moments, the smallest touches, changed him more than he had wanted to admit.

Leaving her was the second biggest regret of his life.

But, a second chance, he had to remind himself, did not come often. In the thousands of years that he had lived, it had only come _once_. He was lucky.

The canvas was dry and wrapped in paper, tied with string. A similar way to how he had gifted art before, but with different materials holding things together. How things changed, and yet stayed the same. It was oddly comforting.

He stepped out of the elevator in the lobby and made his way out into the streets of the city. It had taken some thought, and as embarrassed as he was to admit, reading an actual _map_ to find out they were residing in Val Royeaux. The structures were different, and the city had undoubtably changed. Gone was the air of elitist nobility lording over the powerless, though it _did_ still exist in some places. Those places were the high rises, but those who lived their stayed up there in their towers. The rest of the city was filled with life – art and culture were a large part of it, and street vendors were always in the center of the city.

Yet another thing he had never really expected, what he could have never seen if his plan had succeeded. Another reason to be glad it didn’t.

But the first time to admit to himself that he really was _glad it didn’t happen_.

He chuckled to himself, a small smile on his face at the realization, opening the doors to the museum.

In the center lobby, he found Vera chatting excitedly with someone.

_Elizabeth Rutherford._

Solas walked up and greeted the two of them, though Elizabeth looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

“Oh! You came back!” Vera clapped her hands together, and looked to the package in his arms, “Is that the commission?”

He nodded, holding the wrapped package in front of him. “It is.” He smiled at her, and she smiled back. There was a hint of pink to her cheeks, which he was choosing to ignore. For the moment.

“Commission?” Elizabeth asked, looking between the two of them, and Vera cleared her throat.

“Yes! We met two days ago, remember I told you about the man who might be our new restoration artist for the frescos? This is him. Solas, meet Elizabeth. Elizabeth, meet Solas,” Vera gestured between the two of them, introducing them and both Solas and Elizabeth looked at each other, at first a loss for words.

He was wondering what to say, but Elizabeth seemed to have a plan.

“Oh, we already know each other. He lives in my building, actually.” Elizabeth shrugged, and her features softened. “Nice to see you out and about, Solas.”

If they were to tell half-truths for the time being, he could live with that. He had lived with far worse, after all. “You as well, Elizabeth. When you mentioned you worked at a museum, I had not thought it was this one. I should have assumed.”

Vera laughed, “Worked here? Solas, her family _owns_ this museum,” her green eyes lighting up with excitement, “she’s a _Rutherford_!”

Solas could not, at all, hide his amusement at Vera’s excitement and Elizabeth face palming. Another expression he hadn’t known there was a word for before this, but found it very fitting now. “Oh, are you?” He played the fool, and Elizabeth groaned in reply. “I am actually surprised that name is still around after all these years.”

“See, I told you, Liz! Another person who actually _likes_ my area of the museum!” Then Vera turned to Solas and grinned. He had to hold back his reaction, his desire to just kiss her and enjoy her excitement with her like he used to when she found old artifacts in their travels.

As things change, they still stay the same.

Elizabeth shook her head and laughed, “Don’t get too stuck on him, his painting could be horrible,” She said with a tone of amusement. Because _she_ knew better. Solas and Elizabeth shared a look.

He smirked, “I think she will find it more than suitable. I take _pride_ in my work.”

Elizabeth rolled her eyes, though Vera didn’t see it. She was still staring at him, with an expression on his face he had seen before. The look of wanting to know more. “Then I’ll let you guys get to it. Vera, I’ll see you tonight, right?”

Vera nodded, “Yes! Was it 7? Or 8?”

“Considering you’re usually late, let’s say it’s 7.”

“Is 7 the _actual_ time?”

“I refuse to acknowledge that question,” Elizabeth teased, and nodded to Solas, “Nice to see you again. I’m sure we’ll talk again soon.”

He nodded respectfully, and turned his attention to Vera, who gestured for him to follow him. “I believe we have a painting to look at. The anticipation of seeing your work is _killing_ me!”

She bounded off ahead of him, as she had done many times before, but his smile fell as he watched her back at her choice of words. He shook it off quickly and followed her towards her wing of the museum.

No one was walking the halls, no one was admiring all the work that had been put into maintaining this wing, and he wondered if it was even open. Or that perhaps what Vera had said was right, no one held much interest in this ancient of history anymore.

She guided him into her office, where her desk was covered in disorganized papers and books. Bookshelves lined one wall, and other shelves with various items lined the other. Large windows to bring the sun in, but the shades were drawn. So similar to how she had worked in Skyhold in her quarters, that it both warmed and hurt his heart at the same time. How many times had he found her asleep at the desk, with papers around her? How he had carried her to bed, to tuck her into the sheets, taking his own residence on top of the sheets to watch her sleep.

“Solas?” She asked softly, and he looked to her, “Can I see the painting now?” He had been caught lost in thought, he knew, and did not hide how guilty he was by the smile on his face.

“Of course, my apologies.” He handed the wrapped canvas over to her, and she reached out to take it. As she did, her fingers brushed against his own, the smallest of touches, the lightest of contact but he felt as if he was electric.

Her eyes looked to his for a brief surprised moment, before she pulled away, and moved to stand behind her desk. Papers were shifted and moved over to place the package down, and with slender fingers she carefully pulled on the string bow and let it unravel. She unwrapped the paper from the canvas, and Solas found himself standing straighter as she looked at it.

He was nervous that it wasn’t going to be good enough, despite the fact that he was the original painter of the frescos she so very much wanted restored. He _knew_ they were good enough, and yet…

“By the Creators, this is…” Vera’s voice was soft, and she gently touched the canvas, tracing over the wolf painted there.

“I don’t think I have heard that phrase in a long time,” Solas commented, as he walked to stand closer, the desk the only thing between them.

Vera looked up when he spoke, a blush to her cheeks that didn’t quite reach her ears, “Sorry. You spend so much time researching what once _was_ , that you tend to bring those words into your speech. I’ve spent so long researching other Elves, I never want to be someone who forgets where I came from, you know?” She shrugged her shoulders, as she looked back to the painting.

It was lucky that she looked away, because Solas was staring at her with wide eyes. She was so much the Vera he knew, the one who he loved, and yet she was _different_. He had to remind himself that she did not remember that they could not restore her memory, because how she was speaking was too close to what she _once_ was. “Is the painting alright?” She was what she could be, if the weight of the world hadn’t been on her shoulders. If the weight of the anchor, tearing her apart, didn’t consume her every breath.

“It’s _beautiful_ ,” She replied, and her eyes couldn’t tear away from it. Her fingers still traced the dry paint of the wolf, but he watched her as her eyes moved to the elf on the other side holding the wolf back. “Did you paint this because of the statue?”

“Hmm?”

She moved her hands back, to rest on the top of the desk, and she looked up to him. “When we met, you were staring at the Dread Wolf statue. This painting is reminiscent of a painting I found in a book years ago.” She bit her bottom lip, and held her hand out, “Hold on, it’s around here somewhere…”

Vera moved to the bookshelf to her left, and started to run her fingers over the bindings, muttering out the titles of them as she passed. He watched with interest, remembering her running her fingers over the lower library in Skyhold, or in Dorian’s before borrowing the same book she always read. She liked the classics, she’d tell Solas later in the night. They gave her comfort.

“Ah ha! Found it,” She exclaimed excitedly, as she pulled out a large volume on art history and flipped through the pages. She handed the book to Solas, opened to the page.

Half of his fresco he had painted in the Mountain Ruins, what had once been a sanctuary. Him, removing the vallasin from his followers. His fingers touched the page, as he thought that something that had seemed so important was half recovered in the pages of a book that no one read.

“See, this was a painting of Fen’Harel,” Vera said as she moved to Solas’ side. “It was the first time that he was seen as a _man_ in a mask, not just a wolf. But what you painted, it is as if you expanded on this idea and separated the two! It’s such a fantastic interpretation!”

His heart moved faster than he had hoped it would at her closeness, but more so at her words. “Do you believe he was a man?”

Vera shrugged, “I do, but who he was other than Fen’Harel, no one ever knew. One of the mysteries lost to the years.” She took the book out of Solas’ hands, and closed it, returning it to the bookshelf. “So many things have been lost to the years.”

“It sounds as though you wish you knew more,” He was gentle in his word choice, gentle in what he wanted to say. It confused him, that she had no knowledge of who he, Fen’Harel, had been. They had been told they could use their names still in this time, but Solas hadn’t really considered as to the why. The book that Cassandra poured herself over had all their names listed, but perhaps it was best to keep all their names out of things. To lose them to history.

Or, perhaps, only _his_ name to be lost to history. For the second chance.

It was a kindness he did not deserve.

“Of course, I do. There has been so much discovery over the years, but anything from the Inquisition has been long lost. Elizabeth and her family has been instrumental to keeping this running since her family is one of the last ones in the line of original members. But so many names have just been _lost_. There were two elves in the inquisition, but who were they? A grey warden who has no record of his name. A Seeker, _rumored_ to be a Pentaghast, but really you can’t throw a stone without hitting a Pentaghast these days,” she chuckled at that, and Solas allowed himself a small smile as he listened to her. “A Qunari warrior, a Tevinter necromancer, a spymaster, an ambassador, names _all_ lost. Though, if I were a spymaster, I imagine I’d want my name to be forgotten too. Sort of…puts a damper on everything.”

“You said Elizabeth’s last name was Rutherford, yes?” Solas asked, “That was…the Commander, if I am remembering my history correctly?” All but the Commander, lost to the throws of history. He did not let that go unseen in his eyes.

“Yes. We have his shield and sword, due to her family keeping good care of it, I think I showed you it when you were here last.”

“You did.”

“Other than the Commander, the only other name that wasn’t lost was the storyteller, Varric Tethras. And, I think I have seen so many damn adaptations of his books that I will eat my foot before I see another one. They are _awful_!” She laughed, brightly, “And _ugh_ do you know how many people in that family have named their kids Varric? It’s… _ugh_. If I meet another _Varric_ , I might scream.”

“Scream, _and_ eat your foot? Now that is a rather unfortunate thought to have,” Solas laughed in return, and could not hide his amusement. When Varric, the _real_ Varric found out all of this, it was going to be _quite_ amusing. He’d just need to make sure he was there to witness it, both Vera and Varric’s reaction.

It made sense, of course, if that were what funded the Inquisition through the years, but it still amused Solas more than he could admit in current company.

Vera’s light laugh brought him back once more, “I think I’ve ranted about the past too much today, but,” She held out her hand over the desk, “I’d like to hire you, if you’re up for it. I think you’ll do beautiful work.”

His eyes looked to her hand for a moment before he took it within his own and shook it. “Thank you, I accept. When do I start?” His hold on her hand lingered more than it should have, but neither of them seemed to think it was strange.

What was strange, was a small magic pull that he felt. It was very faint, and hidden under layers, but it was distinctively _hers_ pushing against his own. But if she felt anything at their contact, she did not react or say.

“Monday, how does that sound?”

“Sounds fantastic,” He grinned, and finally their hands parted. He watched as her lips curled up in a half smile, a look of mischief in her eyes he had not seen since before he had left. He knew what the look meant. Trouble. A good kind of trouble back then, but now he wasn’t sure what it could mean.

“We should celebrate! I’m meeting Elizabeth tonight at a pub. It’s the first floor of your building, I’m sure you’ve been there before.”

A pub on the first floor? Had he not noticed this? No. No, he had been single focused on _one_ thing. “I have not, actually. I only moved in a few days ago.” Another half-truth.

“Then it sounds like you need to explore more! Starting with…your building!” Vera teased, as she moved away from her desk and walked him to her office door. “So, I’ll see you, right?”

There was a hopeful look in her eyes. The same hopeful look that had once asked him to teach her about the fade, and Elven history. The same look that drew him towards her as she snuck into his tent at night.

A look he could not, ever, resist.

“Of course.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the delay on getting this up! i don't have as many written ahead as i do for my other story, but that being said i'm going to start aiming to try post once a week :)


	6. Chapter 6

The pub was similar to the taverns he had visited back in his time, perhaps just as rowdy. But yet, the crowd was smaller than he had expected.

Those of the Inquisition, old and new, were around the pub. They were scattered around, some at tables talking, some taking up residence in the bar.

Others he did not recognize, but worked under the assumption they were people that either had no idea who the Inquisition had even been – which was more likely the response given how those in Thedas now seemed so adverse to history and what it was – or those who had an idea and could be trusted. There were more that did not know that did, and he was not given another glance.

Solas had taken one step into the pub before he felt a large hand grab his arm and pull him into the corner.

He hated that in a small part in the back of his mind, he wondered if this was how he would die. The great Dread Wolf, snuffed out in a pub.

Instead, it was Bull, Dorian, and Cassandra in the corner. Bull let go of Solas’ arm, and he rubbed the spot where he had been roughly grabbed. An eyebrow was raised in Bull’s direction, but he didn’t seem sorry for the gesture. _Fine. I suppose I deserved that too._

“Look,” Cassandra spoke in hushed whispers, hard to hear over the loud music and laughter. She pointed towards the bar, where Vera was sitting and chatting with Elizabeth. “ _It’s the Inquisitor,_ ” and the tone that she used actually got a bit of a light laugh out of Solas.

And _that_ got a punch in the arm from the Seeker.

_And I deserved that too_.

“Seeker, you may not want to call her that.”

“And you may not want to call me _Seeker_ ,” She snapped back.

He nodded in concession. “She’s nice.”

Dorian scoffed, “Did you just say the woman you were in a relationship with was _nice_?”

“Vera doesn’t remember me. She doesn’t remember any of us, Dorian.” And quickly, he told them of his interactions with Vera so far. How she worked at the museum, and studied the Inquisition, but when he said his name, there was no recognition. That all of their names, save a select few, were lost to time. “We held no legacy. Our names, who we were, kept secret. Even from her.”

“Perhaps that is the best,” Cassandra sighed, though her tone was softer. Almost sadder than Solas had been expecting. “Fresh start.”

“Yes, you do keep insisting that,” Dorian rolled his eyes, and was nudged by Bull. “Well I for one, am not getting through this night sober. I will find a way to introduce myself to our dear Vera later. Once I’ve…got more wits about me. I admit I’m at a loss.”

Bull snorted, “That’s a first,” but did not let Dorian retort as he dragged the other man towards the bar – taking the far side across from Vera. Solas hid his amusement, once a spy, always a spy. He oddly appreciated that.

But Solas did not move from his spot with Cassandra, who seemed worried. She wrung her hands together, she bounced back and forth on her feet. This was not the confident woman he often saw on the battlefield and had the displeasure of almost facing against. “Cassandra, are you alright?”

She startled at the question, tearing her eyes away from watching Vera and Elizabeth talking, and looked to Solas. “It is hard. I know that we cannot go home, and that we are stuck here, but we remember everything. She does not. Will she ever remember us as we were?”

Her question had hit him unexpectedly, and he swallowed hard. “I cannot answer that. I do not think either of us can.”

“I know,” She replied, with a nod. Next to them, the door to the pub opened, and Varric walked in. It wasn’t long for the two of them to lock eyes, but before Cassandra left to greet him, she turned back to Solas. “I keep telling myself that a second chance for all of us is good.”

“But?”

“I suppose I am doubting myself.”

“I find that the best way to get through it, is one day at a time.”

A thoughtful look crossed her face and she nodded, before leaving his side to go and get a table with Varric.

But now that Solas was alone where he stood, he found himself dangerously aware of how out in the open he was. It was almost as if now the Pub was turning into a battlefield, and he was wondering if he should go for cover and fight the battle or simply retreat. Leaning against the wall in the corner was safer, and no one paid attention to him here.

“Solas! Get over here!”

Her voice called out to him excitedly over the music, and he was no longer safe. He was drawn towards her vibrancy and her grin, and once more he was a moth to the flame. A fool. If she only knew just how much of a fool he really was, in so many ways.

Reaching her side, he stood near the stools that Vera and Elizabeth sat in, and Vera turned to him with that same grin on her face. “I’m so glad you came!”

Elizabeth looked at Solas with a raised eyebrow and a smirk, “She was certain you’d show up. I wasn’t so confident in that.”

Amusement crossed his features as he chuckled, “Oh?”

“I told Elizabeth that you seemed like you needed a friend. Besides, this place is in your building, you really would have no excuse _not_ to show up,” Vera laughed, and looked to Elizabeth and held out her hand.

Elizabeth rolled her eyes, and dug into her pocket, pulling out money and placed it in Vera’s hand. Solas actually _laughed_ at this. “You made a bet on me?”

“Yep,” Elizabeth confirmed, “But I’ll let you two catch up.” She looked behind Vera and Solas to someone at a table in the back, “There’s someone I need to speak to. Vee, we’ll chat later, okay?”

Vera looked behind her to where Elizabeth was, and her curiosity on her face quickly lead the way to glee. She turned back to Elizabeth, “Uh huh. I won’t be hurt if we don’t!”

Elizabeth did not reply, only waved them both off as she went to the back. It was only then that Solas watched her walk over to Brian Tethras, who greeted her with a waiting beer.

His attention though came back to Vera, who was looking at him expectantly. She waved to Elizabeth’s now empty seat, and he took it without second guessing it. He settled into the chair, and the bartender came over to take his order. His knowledge of what was considered _good_ as far as alcohol went now was limited, and simply asked for a darker ale. What he was presented with seemed deep in color, and as he tasted it, he nodded. It would be good enough.

Vera looked on, with a look that Solas knew he would mistake for _pride_ and he opted to not let himself be fooled. She gestured back behind her, to where Elizabeth and Brian were. “I’ve been waiting for her to get her nerve up for months. Another neighbor of yours, by the way.”

“Really?” It was going to get hard pretending he did not know these people already, and he wondered just how many people lived in the building outside of those he knew.

“Yes. That’s Brian Tethras.”

Solas raised an eyebrow, knowing the part he had to play, “Wait, wouldn’t that make both of them descendants?”

“It would,” Vera turned back to her ale in front of her, and smirked before she took a drink. “The only living ones that anyone knows of.”

“Are they…” How exactly was he to word that question?

“No. Not yet anyway. But you know how you can look at two people, and know they have it bad for each other?” She laughed, her shoulders shrugging easily. “She’s only just started to get over the loss of her fiancée Andrew. When he died…that was horrible.”

“I had no idea,” he lied, but the sorrow he expressed was truth. “When did he pass, if I can ask?”

“Six months ago. A month after I started working at the museum. It took a long time for her to find the strength to get out of bed.” She took another drink and looked at the glass absently for a moment. “I truly cannot imagine what it would be like to lose someone I loved like that. But she’s strong.”

He could imagine it. He could see it all clearly. He had _seen_ it clearly, and yet… “It is not something I would not wish on anyone. But I am glad she is getting better.”

Vera’s eyes looked up from the glass, and she put her hand over her lips. “Oh, Solas, I am so sorry, I had no idea…I hope I did not upset you!”

He was quick to shake his head, “No, you are fine. It was many, many years ago.” A half-truth, “you do not need to be sorry.”

She dropped her hand from her lips and let it rest on the bar counter. She seemed to accept it, and continued, “Anyway, Brian has been into Elizabeth for a long time now. Since before I knew them both. I think she’s finally starting to realize she likes him too.”

Solas looked over Vera’s shoulder, and raised an eyebrow. “I would say that is a correct assumption.” He gestured with his head for Vera to turn around, and when she did, she cheered. He had not expected that to be her reaction to her two friends sharing a kiss, but he had always been amused at how happy Vera was at other people’s happiness. He could remember her amusement when finding out that Dorian and Iron Bull were an item, though once Bull caught on, he was relentless in his stories much to the chagrin of anyone in ear shot.

Still, the smile on Vera’s face was contagious, and he couldn’t help but also smile in watching her. When she had turned around, she had caught his look. She laughed, as if he had caught her off guard. He was still not used to the fact that she did not remember him, nor any of them. “What?” She asked, her eyebrow quirking up.

“I just enjoy how happy you are for your friends,” he covered, though thankfully it was a truth.

Vera shrugged, and he noticed a blush forming on her cheek. She turned her face and tried to hide it, and he was finding it hard for him to hide his smile – it hadn’t gone away, and it was threatening to stay if he wasn’t careful. “I just enjoy happiness,” She said, as if that statement was the strangest thing anyone could have said all night.

Solas just nodded in agreement and turned away from her, picking up his glass and taking a drink from it. His eyes looked across the bar, to see Dorian and Bull sitting close together and staring at the two of them. Bull was smirking, where Dorian was looking at them with narrowed eyes. Dorian’s eyes moved to meet with Solas’, and he raised an eyebrow.

He laughed through his nose in a small burst of air, and rolled his eyes. It would take time for everyone to fully trust him again. Bull, oddly enough, seemed more apt to it than Dorian was. Solas would not push. He would not pry. The trust he had shattered would take time to form again, but it would not be formed as it had been.

Vera nudged her shoulder against Solas’, and she laughed. “You got lost in thought again.”

“Hmm?” He replied, setting his glass down and turning towards her, “I apologize, were you saying something that I missed?”

“Nothing too important, I was just wondering how you were liking the city so far.”

“Ah,” Solas smiled, “I haven’t had the time to truly explore it. I’m afraid the most I’ve done is go to the museum and come back here. Sometimes, I feel the bustle of the city is too much noise. I prefer quiet.”

Vera laughed at this, and smirked, “Then I shouldn’t have invited you to a pub, huh?”

His smirk matched her own, “This doesn’t seem terribly busy. Limited clientele.”

She looked around the room, eyes scanning over everyone. He watched as all of the Inquisition was watching her carefully. He wondered if she noticed that all eyes were on her, almost every minute of every hour. If she did notice, did she care?

He remembered that she used to hate being the center of attention. She hated what the titles meant, and she hated being _worshipped_. Though she had once quipped “ _outside of the bedroom”_ and winked at him, pulling a rather loud and full laugh out of him.

She always could do the impossible. Like make him laugh.

“I suppose, most of these people are regulars. Though I see some new faces,” Vera gestured over to Bull and Dorian, who were now being joined by Cassandra and Varric. All four of them, staring at her. “Those people are new. I don’t know them.”

Solas swallowed down the rest of his glass, and he set it down. “This is where I believe I can help,” he said, as he slid off the bar stool, and held his hand out for her to take. An old habit, that would die hard, and it wasn’t until she looked at him strangely that he retracted it. “Apologies, I tend to sometimes act far older than I am,” another half-truth.

She waved it off, and offered a calm smile, “It’s fine, I just didn’t expect it! It’s not every day someone tries to act chivalrous towards me. Or ever, really.” Vera hopped off her bar stool, “Where are we going?”

“I’d like to introduce you to my friends,” He said, as he lead them around the bar, towards the four people who were now watching _Solas_ and his every move. “While I’ve only moved back to this part of the country a few weeks ago, these are the _friends_ I used to have. We’ve got a lot of catching up to do,” He explained, choosing his words carefully. Tenderly. Out of respect of the past, and potential of the future. “They’re also my neighbors, we all used to live near each other,” he added as they stopped in front of the four of them. Solas could set the scene, so to speak, so they would follow. “That was how I knew about an apartment opening here.”

“Oh!” Vera clapped her hands together, and grinned at the four of them, “Hi! I’m Vera, happy to meet you!”

Solas nodded and stepped to the side, letting his _friends_ do their own introductions. Dorian was first, holding out his hand for Vera, and when she took it, he bowed dramatically and kissed it. “Dorian Pavus,” He grinned, as he stood back up and winked, “A pleasure to meet such an _exquisite_ person such as yourself!”

Bull laughed, and put his hand on Dorian, “Calm down, you’re off the market, remember?” He winked at the other man, and nodded towards Vera, “Iron Bull. Nice to meet you.”

“Your horns are _amazing_ ,” Vera immediately replied, and there was that blush again. She laughed, causing everyone else to as well, a bit of the tension breaking.

“If there is to be introductions, my name is Cassandra Pentaghast.” And before Vera could ask if she was from _that_ family, Cassandra added with an eye roll, “yes, _that_ Pentaghast family.” Vera looked a little embarrassed, to which Cassandra immediately changed her tune, “I am sorry! I just get that a lot, that is all!”

“Careful now,” Varric laughed, “Don’t scare her off.”

Cassandra scowled, and Solas waited for the introduction. Varric stepped up and held out his hand for Vera, “Save the most important for last, of course. Varric Tethas, at your service.”

Vera shook his hand, but looked at Solas, before looking back at Varric. “I’m sorry, did you say…”

Solas knew the look. That Varric thought, that he _hoped_ that maybe that was a question of recognition. That perhaps Vera remembered him. Varric answered carefully, but did not lose his charm, “Tethras? Ah, yeah, I’m Brian’s cousin. Lucky me.”

“Oh, no I figured, I meant that your name is Varric. I know a lot of Varrics, that’s all. Do you have a nickname?”

Solas chuckled, and whispered to Vera, “What was that about what you’d do if you met another ‘Varric’?”

Vera’s cheeks blushed a deep red, and Solas would not give himself the victory of thinking it was due to his proximity to her. “Shut. Up.” She replied quickly, but there was no anger in her tone. There was amusement.

Varric raised an eyebrow, and looked at Solas, who only replied, “Don’t worry, Varric. I’ll explain it later.”

Vera groaned, and Solas simply laughed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is going on a little bit of a hiatus, as I'm in Mass Effect brain mode right now (and my job is picking up more and more), but expect updates here and there as I can!


	7. Chapter 7

It was somewhere around the fourth round of drinks that everyone started to feel very good about themselves.

Or, maybe it was because Brian and Varric together decided to buy everyone in the pub their drinks. When the only folks left were the Inquisition of old and new, it was easier to let loose.

The doors were locked, under the pretense that only those who were residents of the building had access. When Vera thought she had to leave, both Brian and Varric said “nonsense!” in unison, gathering looks from everyone and groans from the two of them. Which, then immediately caused the first round of free drinks. Which lead to a second one, and so on.

Solas could remember the last time he had drank this much, and it had been thousands of years ago….before he had met Vera. Not that he didn’t partake in a drink now and then, but he had to keep his wits about him most of the time.

There was always a war. There was always a conflict. There was always someone coming after him, or someone _he_ was hunting. There were fights to be won, and empires to destroy, and countless other objectives that had always kept him moving. Kept him going forward. There was no need for rest, when every moment was spent thinking of the next move. Always planning, always thinking to be five steps ahead. He used to be able to bend the world to his whims.

Now, he was at the mercy of technology he only half knew of and did not understand. The busy city, a symphony of sounds he was not used to knowing, let alone enjoying. But there was also no war, other than his constant war with his thousands-year old guilt. He was not truly hunting anyone, not in the way he used to.

For the first time, in his life, he didn’t have to plan for the worst. He didn’t have to plan for _anything_. It should have comforted him.

It didn’t.

Somewhere around the third drink was when he came to that realization, allowing himself to slip into melancholy. He was, of course, immediately called out on it by Dorian, and Vera jumped on it as well. “Does he do this a lot?” She had asked, and Dorian laughed.

“My dear, you have no idea,” Dorian looked to Solas, who narrowed his eyes. “But there have been rare moments where my friend has allowed himself true happiness. I hope he allows himself to feel that again.” Vera had thought the comment was sweet, and Solas had swallowed down the remainder of his drink in an instant. To be sitting next to Vera, the subject of which Dorian spoke of, was a lot.

So, the fourth round of drinks happened. Somewhere between the fourth and fifth round of drinks, Bull demanded a job at the pub as a bartender, Dorian demanded a job to keep an eye on Bull, and for some reason Brian had agreed. And Solas was certain that he couldn’t hold this liquor anymore, not certain when he was able to just get drunk on basic ale – until Bull revealed he changed out Solas’ drink for something “stronger for those old folks among us.”

That was when Solas had to stop drinking, lest he be blacked out the next day. But in the moments when he was just focusing on trying to be any amount of _sober_ and failing, he found himself looking at Vera and those around her.

She wasn’t changed much, he knew this, but seeing her in action now proved it. She was calm and collected around everyone, she was the center of attention and yet tried to shy away from it. She asked everyone (drunk) questions about who they were to get to know them better, and he watched as those who knew her as something more struggled to give any sort of answer that would not give themselves away.

As the night dragged on, Elizabeth and Brian were long gone. Bull and Dorian were passed out in the corner by the bar, in a position that could not have been comfortable, but yet Dorian slept against Bull as if he were the finest of pillows.

Varric and Cassandra were playfully bickering at the table next to Solas and Vera, with the Seeker very much trying to ignore that she was _enjoying_ the attention the Storyteller was giving her. Solas was about to comment on such a thing, albeit drunkenly so, when he felt Vera tug on his shirt.

“Come on,” She said. She stood up and walked towards the door of the pub, that would lead into the apartment complex.

Try as he might, he could not stop his mind from wandering. Of inviting her up to his apartment, being alone with her, kissing her in hopes that it would somehow help her to remember who and what they were to each other. To hear her moan his name in pleasure one more time, it would be all that he needed.

He stood and followed her, because as he had always known, he would follow her to the ends of the world. In a strange way, he had.

“Where are we going?” He asked, as they stepped outside.

Vera immediately giggled, her cheeks red from the alcohol, a color that moved to the tips of her ears. “Honestly, I don’t know! Everyone looked so paired off that I felt it was best to leave them alone. I mean...it looked like your friends were about to jump each other.”

Solas laughed, “I would say that might be a correct assumption, if they’re drunk enough.”

The two of the looked at each other for a moment, and he watched her as she bit her lower lip, and he knew he was staring.

“I was going to stay with Elizabeth tonight, but I don’t think that’s happening now,” She continued.

“I have a couch, if you’d like? Maybe a guest room, I haven’t looked.”

“You don’t know what is in your own apartment?”

“Just moved here, remember?”

“Still. That’s…Solas, that’s _weird_.” She laughed, but headed towards the elevator anyway. Once again, he followed. He hit the button in the elevator, and up they went to his floor.

They idly chatted about random things in the short (long) elevator ride and walk to his apartment, and he found himself fumbling with the keys to his door nervously before he was able to let them in. He was drunk, he knew this, but it felt like his nerves were also amplifying everything.

His magic was dancing anxiously under his skin, being this close to her aura when he couldn’t control most of himself right now was driving him towards the edge. But he would not, could not, ruin this time with her. Or any time with her. If this was all they could be, friends and co-workers who talked, he told himself it would be enough.

Even if it was not enough, it would have to be enough.

Vera entered the apartment before him, and he closed the door behind her. He headed to the kitchen to get them two glasses of water, and heard her speak.

“Oh, _wow_ ,” Vera gasped, as she started to look around his apartment, “This is amazing.” Her voice of awe and admiration mirrored the look that Solas was giving her as she wandered around his place, and he was thankful she did not see it. He would not want to scare her off, not when he felt he was getting the chance to know and fall in love with her all over again.

Water poured, he walked over to where she was looking – the bookshelf, of course. “Here,” He said, and she thanked him with a nod, taking the glass of water from her.

Their fingers brushed against another and Solas found himself holding his breath.

“You find my bookshelf amazing?” He asked, covering.

“Yes,” She laughed, “I almost feel like I’m in the museum. Creators, did you take these from my office?” She teased, and looked at him with a wink. “I suppose you really are a good fit with me, huh?”

Solas had been in the middle of taking a drink when she said that, and he almost choked. “What?”

Vera’s eyes went wide and she fumbled over her words in a way that Solas just wanted to kiss her then and there. Again. He was finding he was always going to have these reactions to her, they were just amplified more now that he was drunk. “I meant in the museum! I think…erm, well it seems we have similar interests, so I think we’ll get along just fine.”

_You have no idea how well we once were_ , he thought, _before I had gone and ruined it._

“I agree, I think we will,” He smiled, “I hope I won’t disappoint.”

“I don’t think you will,” She replied a little quietly, and Solas almost doesn’t know what they’re talking about anymore.

It takes him a moment to regain his senses and he clears his throat, “I’ll get you some pillows and blankets for the couch, if that’s alright?”

“Of course.”

They set her up in the living room, on the laughably large couch that Solas didn’t think he had a need for until tonight. Vera settles down into the couch, and it reminds Solas of all the times she’s passed out on the couch in the rotunda while he painted or read. A moment in time he can’t get back, and a moment in time he _wants_ back.

He feels like he’s at war with himself again. It’s best that he call it a night.

“Good night, Vera. I hope you sleep well,” He says with a smile and a nod.

She yawns, and smiles in return. “Good night, Solas. Thank you again, I appreciate it.”

He nods and then heads off into his bedroom, where sleep doesn’t come to him for hours – not while he’s overly aware of the woman sleeping in the next room. But eventually, sleep takes him.

When Solas wakes up, Vera is already gone from his living room. But on the kitchen counter, there is a note that reads: _Thanks for being a gentleman, and for coming out last night. I’m glad I got to know you more. I’ll see you Monday! – Vera_

And underneath it, there’s another note. Her phone number, in case he ‘needs’ it.

He smiles and thinks that maybe things are going in the right direction after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello! hope you enjoyed the update! as a reminder, this update is on a semi-hiatus, but i will still be updating a bit as i get chapters up and going! so you may see a few in a row, or it might be some time between them - i hope you don't mind! 
> 
> and if unusual pairings are something that interests you, please feel free to check out my other stories that are updating a little more regularly :)


	8. Chapter 8

It’s not until Sunday that Solas decides to do something about Vera’s phone number.

Navigating the world of romance and dating when he was young was different. He was arrogant, and cocky. He just smiled wickedly towards someone he had an interest in and made it a challenge to see if he could bed them. There was no romance in his past actions.

As he grew older, he was more guarded. The war, the creation of the Veil, the thousand-years of sleep, it had a way of putting a damper on anything close to a love life.

Then the Inquisition happened. And Vera happened, with her persistent questions and her teasing him, calling him out on things when he thought he was being so smooth. He thought he could get nothing by her, until he realized he was getting _everything_ by her and the guilt ate away at him until there was nothing for him to do but leave instead of telling her the truth.

That resulted in…everything that happened. He kept telling himself there was no need to keep dredging up the past, when it was _thousands_ of years behind him, but he was never good at letting the past stay there.

It had been, after all, his driving force for longer than he had wanted to admit. Because he couldn’t admit his mistakes had been that: mistakes.

But here, in this modern world, navigating the world of flirting was strange. Dating apps, swiping one way or another (and he always forgot which was better, much to Maria Montilyet’s horror), speaking via text instead of in person, it felt odd.

He didn’t want to date _anyone_ though. There was one person he was interested in, and he had told himself that if he could not win Vera’s heart again here, he would not try to win anyone’s. She had been the love of his exceptionally long life, and he would not see her replaced with anyone he could deem as second rate.

It was Dorian, of all people, who suggested that Solas just _text_ Vera. That alone had been interesting, as Dorian had taken to all the new technology and way of living far faster than the rest of them. He even had a bit of a social media following, and was using it to promote the pub. Short work when they had only been there for a short time, but if anyone could do it, Dorian was the one who made the most sense.

Sunday night, as he listened to a record that seemed interesting, he sent her a message. He took guidance from Maria and Dorian on what to say.

_Hello. It’s Solas. I just wanted to make sure you had my phone number too._

It seemed so simple. There was nothing flirtatious about the comment, it was sent out of necessity. But her offer had been one of the same, so why not reply in kind?

He set the phone down, and picked up a book, but he wasn’t reading it. He was just staring at the words and kept glancing back at his phone. Waiting for _something_ of a reply.

He was the damned Dread Wolf; he could just _appear_ to her and speak to her. And he was relying on a _text message_? Why would he let himself be so stuck to a piece of technology that seemed to do nothing but annoy—

The phone buzzed in reply, and his hand shot out so quickly to grab the phone that he almost knocked his book completely out of his lap.

_Vera: Hey! I’m glad you got my note, I was getting worried that you didn’t._

_Solas: I did, I apologize that it took me so long to respond to you._

_Vera: That’s okay, I’m just being dramatic. I’ve been known to do that. I wanted to thank you again for Friday night._

_Solas: You don’t have to do that._

There was a long pause between the replies, or it felt it had been. What was only minutes felt like hours, and he silently scolded himself for worrying that he may have upset her with his choice of words.

What was this?

_Vera: I know, but still. It was a good time, and I had a good time getting to know you better! Thanks for letting me sleep on your couch._

_Solas: You’re welcome._

_Vera: I have to go, I have errands I need to finish today, but I’ll see you tomorrow?_

_Solas: Tomorrow._

_Vera: Good. Looking forward to it!_

When the conversation was deemed ‘over’ – and were text message conversations ever really deemed over? He wasn’t 100% sure on that yet – Solas looked at the phone in his hand curiously. It was strange how quickly his heart was jumping at her replies to him; in his youth he would write scandalous letters to would be lovers, but replies were never quick in return. Even with the Eluvians, it could still take weeks or months for a reply, if there were to be one at all.

Here, now, in this time, the replies were fast, and he felt like he was drunk all over again. Drunk on the idea that she was seconds away from a conversation, or seconds away from hearing her voice, and he had to be careful. If he wasn’t this power could go to his head.

He laughed at that. The _power_ of modern technology, holding more over his head than his own damned power itself.

A strange world, but he’d get used to it. For her.

For now, he would spend the rest of his Sunday trying to relax his nerves, calm himself for his first day of work at the Museum. ‘Restoring’ what were his paintings, and if Vera only truly knew the irony in him restoring what once was…it would remain to be something he’d keep to himself.

The continuation of secrets kept from her, he could feel it growing under his skin, starting to prickle him in ways he didn’t want. He didn’t want to lie to her. Not anymore.

But she wasn’t who she was.

Perhaps he wasn’t either.

As the others had said, _a fresh start_. And yet, the idea still seemed so foreign. It was hard for an old soul to learn new ways, but he had no choice but to try.

Try and get things right this time around.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh hi! long time no see :) 
> 
> things have been insane on this end, but will be trying to update this more regularly! expect more soon, my friends.


	9. Chapter 9

When he arrived for his first day, he thought he had arrived earlier than Vera.

In fact, he found out that she had been there for _hours_ before the day was supposed to even start.

He had to hide his smile at the knowledge that somethings with Vera never changed: always first to rise, to get out into the field, to start hunting, to practice fighting, to keep everything moving. She had never been good at resting, he wondered if Vera _here_ was the same.

She was pouring herself over manuscripts on the table near his paintings, and they greeted each other with good morning, and she presented him with a hot cup of coffee. “Something tells me you’re not a tea guy,” she said with a smirk, and he had to stop himself from laughing.

It was almost as if she could read him, but that would be impossible.

He had to keep reminding himself the names of the Inquisition had been lost to time, and that the Modern Inquisition protected the Inquisition of old for that reason.

But here she former Inquisitor was, offering her former Mage companion coffee instead of tea, something she once knew he detested.

The little things that broke through were going to pile up and weigh him down in the end, he assumed, but he would endure.

Or, he’d simply let the weight take him, and have it known it was worth it. The jury was still out on his decision.

They spent the first half of the day working in silence next to each other – she reads and takes notes, him painting over familiar lines and contemplating how to ‘finish’ the last painting.

It was around the lunch hour that Vera broke the comfortable silence between them: “What do you think the Inquisitor was like?”

The question was innocent, and should have been taken as one, but Solas found his eyes widen and he almost dropped his paint brush. Actually, _almost_ was incorrect, he had and caused a black swipe where it shouldn’t have been. He grabbed his paint rag and quickly resolved the situation and found himself thankful he was not facing her when she spoke. “Which one?”

He finally stepped down his ladder, finding a cleaner rag to wipe his hands clean, and looked up to look at her. She stood over the table, with her hands on the edges, looking down at the manuscript papers in front of her. The stance of the Inquisitor she had been, lording over the war table to consider her next move.

Her back was to Solas when she replied, laughing light for a moment, “The second one, not the first one.”

“You’re the expert, what do you know about the Inquisitor?” It was easier to put the question back on her, other than him waxing poetic about her to her. He walked around the table to look at the manuscripts she was looking at, and as he got closer, he noticed her body language changed.

She got a little more relaxed, and he could sense her magic aura trying to reach out to him – though from a look at her, she didn’t notice it. But she stood up straighter and rubbed a hand on her shoulder. “Very little, admittedly. All I know is that the Inquisitor existed, and they were a rarity. I don’t know who they were – Qunari, Dwarf, Elf, Human...I don’t know who they were.”

“The Inquisitor was an Elven woman,” Solas blurted out, despite his better judgement, or apparent self-control he did not seem to have.

“What?” Vera asked, shifting so as she stood up straighter, his hand fell from her shoulder. She looked at him with wide eyes and her expression pained him; it was one of shock and confusion. “How would you know that?”

How _would_ he know that? His gut reaction to reply to her had already started to dig him into a hole he wasn’t sure he knew the way out of.

“I still possess a connection to the Fade,” He said, starting to unravel the knowledge of this modern world and twine it with that he knew from before. “In my travels there, I saw her.”

Little lies.

Little white lies, that had once eventually blossomed into larger ones he couldn’t hold back from her any longer. But it wouldn’t be that way this time. It could not be that way this time.

He waited for her reaction, and to his surprise, her features softened. “I know some still have connection to it, my friend Andrew, he had that connection too. He used to tell me about his travels too before he died.”

His eyes registered the name, the connection. _A descendant of first Inquisitor Ameridan’s,_ was what Elizabeth had told him that first night of her past fiancé.

“Ah, I am sorry for your loss of your friend,” Solas spoke quietly, suddenly regretting bringing her down a path that might cause her to think more of the pain and sorrow than of what she _was_.

To his surprise, she chuckled. “Solas! It’s fine. I was just making the connection, telling you that I believe you.” Her lips curled into a soft smile, “Will you tell me what else you found in your travels?”

That statement alone knocked him back to when they first got to know each other in Haven. Her questions about the Fade and the spirits there, his travels. His little lies of omission that had endeared him to her, and her thoughtfulness that had made him realize that perhaps she was more than she was letting on.

“About the Inquisitor?” He asked but knew the answer.

She nodded eagerly, and her face lit up just at the _prospect_ of knowing more. That look made him feel almost angry that Elizabeth and her friends had not told Vera _anything_. Of course, it was to ‘protect’ her, but what were they actually protecting her from?

“Alright,” He said, with a nod, “But let’s go somewhere else. I’m afraid I don’t know the area that well, is there a park we could perhaps take our lunch to?”

Vera lit up with a grin, “That’s a great idea! I think I have a blanket around here somewhere too.”

He returned the grin, “Fantastic. Gather what you need, and I’ll meet you by the doors.”

Vera disappeared out of her office, and Solas took the chance to look around the room, at the things on her desk, before he packed up his things that he had brought with him and headed out towards the doors.

She was already there waiting for him, her bag on her shoulder, and the blanket in her arms.

“Here, let me carry that,” He gestured to the blanket, arms open for it, and Vera smiled as she passed it to him.

“Thanks. The park is around the corner, it’s quiet, believe it or not. I think you’ll like it.”

They stepped out into the sun and started their walk towards the park, Solas finding that he wasn’t truly focusing on anything around him; only Vera. It was a habit he had once thought was an inconvenience to his plans and his motives but now, he was just thankful to be in her presence again.

“And you promise?” Vera asked, and Solas raised an eyebrow.

“To what?”

“That you’ll tell me everything you know?”

Solas smiled, little white lies forming already, “Of course, everything I can tell you, I will.”


End file.
